


I know, i know everything.

by uchihas1000



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Suicide, Urie's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchihas1000/pseuds/uchihas1000
Summary: (Live. Live for the times you thought you were better off dead. Please, live on.)





	I know, i know everything.

°•  
I hear the footsteps around the house like some kind of predator is coming near its pray, slowly, luring, holding its breath. I wait for the next move, like I am meant to be the pray. That is just a normal night for me in the house though, but is it for him?

One single sly step until the door shuts.

I know everything.

I look at his whitewashed hair; as if it wasn’t obvious his mind never experienced true peace, only a deadly eerie silence just before a tragedy, an explosion. But that’s just in his head; it’s always in his head until you look in his eyes; uneasy, unsteady. Until you feel the ground shaking and your helpless body being thrown away from the explosion he had been plotting for a lifetime. And you only looked him in the eye and prayed it would be fine.

Was it ever? It’s obviously ignorable for everyone. Why, you might ask.  
“That guy has issues, don’t get involved.” Said the entire CCG. Says the entire CCG everyday for everyone.  
I know everything.  
They do too.

I read files all the time, since my life is not that exciting to go on missions every single day. By exciting I mean on the verge of dying.  
Welcome to the life of a ghoul investigator who just turned into a ghoul because death was never enough. Wishing for death is a luxury. That time, I came across a piece of newspaper saved on a specific file full of old newspapers. Never accessible to anyone except investigators on long-lasting missions. And the files would be about that one person I never thought I would come across on secret files.  
Mutsuki.

Oblivious to the pain I was coping with, I wanted it to be fake. It had to be fake. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Everything pointed to that every day but all I could do was be consumed by the truth in denial. That day I swallowed the hugest bite I could feel my insides deform. I felt my chest about to smash itself and my face was drained of life for e slight second, my mouth dry from the unconscious panting.  
“12-year-old girl murders entire family .Tells CCG it was a ghoul”…  
“Report on changing name and gender.”  
“Working under CCG: policies”  
I wish I didn’t know.

That day, when he thought he was in control, when his hair was completely white, when he thought it was time to serve justice, when his entire sense of self had been deformed and his life completely sucked out of his eyes, his face would glitch. As if trying to send off signals. That the face is shielding something. Something even he isn’t capable of comprehending and handling.  
Not because he’s doesn’t know but because he’s just too traumatized to remember. It had always been a war between two entities in one body. And no one was able to notice because no one cared enough to look him in the eye and see how his entire being was being disfigured from the inside. Or even worse, speak up.  
There’s no turning back, for you will all know like I do.

He wasn’t consciously driven, only mechanically. One second he had the eyes of a cold blooded opponent who had everything in control, the next, blood thirst washed over his face like there was never anything else. His green color was as traceless as his sanity. Maybe a trace of life managed to survive somewhere on the corner of his lips , but nothing more.  
I saw the madman in his eyes; I saw the anger; I saw irredeemable damage; I saw hurt.

It was hard to even comprehend just how twisted his entire being was at that moment and yet I couldn’t help myself but love him more. The feeling of begging for help. I might just know that.

As I once opened the door of his bedroom out of curiosity I see faces, pinned on the wall. Targets. It was the two same people over and over. Entering the room, it seemed like a normal one, ordinary, minimalistic furniture on the corners, maybe couple of books on the corner. However my gut feeling screamed uneasiness far from ordinary. It was a pitch-black room not because the light was off, but because the coldness trapped in there for months of not being inhabited, tickled my spine in the most atrocious way; the window’s curtains never seemed to have opened as the air was suffocating and dense; a metallic smell filled up the space, and it wasn’t because of the lined up knives on his wall. It smelled of death, a cemetery. Some of his distraught thoughts were trapped on that room, finding no escape whatsoever, just filling up the space and colliding with each other. And then a picture of Haise somewhere hidden.

He had planned an entire slaughter under the same rooftop as me and whenever i looked him in the eye, I would have never thought he loved him that much.

The nights were only for the brave, but that’s when he felt the most vulnerable, like a moth trapped on spiders net, helpless. There was no one else except him. He was the moth and the spider. He was his worst enemy and probably the only thing that can ever save him.  
Just himself.  
No night was as quiet as you felt it was.  
Not for him.  
He visited hell every night on his dreams. He lived his nightmares every day. I would never have a true understanding of how it feels to be in that room, in his mind. I tried to help, hoping my pathetic and pitiful help would make just a small difference. He needed the home he never had and the love I was too scared to give. All I could do was hold him in my arms and pray it never ended.

When I asked him when he felt the strongest, his face was covered by a melancholic veil I had never witnessed before as he broke the space between us slowly, creeping on my lips and just after breaking the kiss he whispered “Haise” as a single tear streamed down his cheek. And that was it. I felt the hands of fate slowly removing every evidence of liveliness on my body and I would stand still, watching him play his delusions on his mind. Whenever he felt he needed him the most, I would not be Urie to him anymore. I was Haise. The Haise who cared, kissed back, loved back.  
But Urie was not like that to him, he was contained, afraid to love. Pathetic. And so I could only express my true feelings when I was Haise.  
Grotesque, disgusting.  
I was fine with that, despite how corroding it felt to have been looked in the eye and simply not seen the real soul occupying the body. Gradually I was sucked on that black hole of self hatred, self despise and something inside me pushed me to find that fucker every day. To let him know of the void he left everywhere his so detested feet stepped on. Not that he would care anyways.

Back then I was able to reach to him, exchange actual words, recognize his voice and feel his words in my ears. And it felt home, I felt at ease. But he wasn’t. Back then he knew how to blend into everything, like a chameleon, forcing his cried for help down his throat trying to help me while I cried for help.  
Any time I was around him I felt this kind of energy I never imagined a human would posses. The strong desire to live. And that was what saved me, a body ready to give up life anytime I had the opportunity in my hand. The sparkle in his dark eyes screamed life but the slight shake of the hands were the ones who might as well give you death. And they did occasionally. He didn’t want it but he had to. He even did when he didn’t have to. Because those were the fates assigned to us, to kill. He just couldn’t go back, even if he realized where he was taking himself to, even if someone stopped him. He was assigned to make his life as miserable as possible, even if he had no control over his every move. Willingly stepping on that path. He felt he had to pay for the sins he was forced to commit. And now he was about to checking the last box on his to do list. Kill his worst enemy. Himself.

And I was destined to be drawn to him, closer and closer, whenever I felt his hands shape shift into the mad killing machine even he could not predict. It could have been anyone, witnessing how those hands slowly tying themselves round a knife, gripping it harder, his knuckles white from the immense force, directing its tip towards their prey. But their pray was not the usual loaf of meat he would feast himself into, nor was it a target, the wall, the pictures in his bedroom wall, it was their own master. The hands who doubtlessly sought blood every breath he took, now shaking with terror, were about to take their own life. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, as if forcing his entire being now in shock, to normally function after he 's willingly ignoring all his body’s defense mechanisms to let him live just a bit longer. His eyes were shut. Completely relaxed eyelids covering his pupils who would never absorb the light of the day, now rested in darkness, oblivious of what its own body would go through. Kneeling on the ground he fought for death, his breaths, forcing themselves out for just a bit longer. The tip of his knife was slightly touching his slender neck and I could almost feel the sharpness of that on my own neck ripping apart every living tissue keeping it together.

It had to be me; I had to be the one witnessing everything, to turn around that corner hoping to find the ghoul I was investigating on, but unexpectedly bump on, once again, the last person I wanted to be there. He was the ghoul. He was the Mutsuki who wanted to take his own life. He was the person who poppet-mastered me into being Haise. The person who once upon a miserable life tried to make my life less miserable by giving me hope that would gradually corrode me from the inside, first tasting sweet then leaving behind an acidic veil on my mouth that I wanted to get rid of, but never did. It was the person who was always particularly interested in what I was listening to whenever I sealed myself from the world with my earphones. The person who always ordered me around to buy groceries, just because he couldn’t stand how I gradually was drifting apart. All the different sides of him were there, inside that body, all squeezed inside that petite body that had to hold the weight of the entire sins of this world, pretending his shoulders were strong enough to handle that, but slowly failing.

When he felt my presence, the knife was already on the ground from my kagune jerking it from his hands. His reaction was as cold as always, glacial eyes sharply pierced mine like I stole the prey from his hands. His eyes demanded their privacy back as they gazed back at me not bothering to change the position of his head. He finally turned his entire body facing mine, his posture never indicating any sign of surrendering. At this point, he felt he had nothing to lose. He only attacked hoping I would in any way wound him back.

“Bear in mind I’m your enemy now, defending me in any way is stepping on the words you vowed to the CCG “

He wanted me to hate him. He wanted me to snap out of my defense mode and finish what he started. To let go the feelings I always held onto, to delete the once fragile and meek person he used to be and replace him with the gruesome persona he had forced himself to become. To let go of the times he had been my salvation. To completely erase all the good memories we had together. Simply treat him like another ghoul I would assassinate and get a promotion for. He wanted to bring my self-centered, asshole persona back, the one who lived for promotion but would never die for it, who never had a sense of comradeship with anyone except his own ego who, at that time, was as fragile as Mutsuki’s hug when I snapped.

Just as his kagune sliced my cheek faintly, I finally saw his eyes that were usually covered by his mint bangs. They screamed help, like the one he never got when he needed it ; they wanted an escape, somewhere not designed to be in this planet ; they sought peace, so serene, you could only feel that in between the dead; they were starving for love but blinded by the shine of his knifes. They were distraught from the rollercoaster of emotions he wanted to forever be oblivious to as much as he wanted to give in to the temptation, that sinister feeling to him of simply giving love not because you had to, but because you wanted to. He was religious to the pain. Love and pain were tied together in his head, like the Siamese twins who always share a vital organ in common, therefore not being able to live separate lives. His catharsis was never meant to take place before his body melted itself into mud and his soul once again fought to escape the eternal flames of his own fate. Or at least that’s what he wanted to believe.

I wanted to speak, to hear my voice articulate his name, rip the dammed sew off my mouth and let go of the entire burden on my chest, the acid in my mouth and the lost trails of speech on my head that never managed to make their way out. I wanted to untangle the words on my head out of my mouth and show him that he can live. He can keep on living, even if he is filled with regret of his sins, even if he can‘t look me in the eye and tell me if he really is fine, even if his limbs fail him, or his arms snap out of their position, even if the souls of the fallen from his hands decide to hunt him on his sleep, even if whenever he closes his eyes, he wants to dwell on the darkness his eyelids have to offer him.

(Live. Live for the times you thought you were better off dead but extracted every tiny bit of energy off of your muscles to get out of hell by yourself, your own bones always having your back. Live for the moment you learned how pure love feels like, for the days we were a family under the same roof. Live for Shirazu, who would always recklessly jump in action just to save anyone the pain. Live for Saiko, whose face lights up whenever she sees you down the hall. Live for the Haise we all remember, the one who cracked unnecessary puns and got mad when we skipped meals. Live for me, the asshole you desperately wanted to help. And maybe I will not live for long, neither might you or all of us, for our bodies are designed to expire before anyone else, but at least we will die with the taste of once being a family in our mouth and the warm blanket of each other’s accompany covering our bodies when we breathe our last breath. So please, live on. )

Blood dripped from his kagune. And once again, he had fooled me. Fooled me to believe he wanted to kill me. Fooled me into thinking he would continue the pointless clash, that I could buy some time. But time was precious to him, as precious as the faint smile that overcame his lips when his own kagune ignoring the body, his own body, that had pierced and squeezed my arm, like a last farewell, like that hug on the Auction Raid, overcoming my arm sweetly, grievously letting go forever. I reached for his body on his last breath, fighting the battle he fled. He whispered something, honey sweet venom.

“Take me home, please…”

And his head rested on my shoulder. Eternal rest embraced his body, while I bitterly felt his lifeless smile on my neck. One more last breath escaped his nostrils. He was at ease, he was home.  
•°

**Author's Note:**

> *drinks my own tears* i hope sensei never sees this


End file.
